The detective, the mixer and the planter
by Lilamedusa
Summary: Elladora was seventy but she'd always be the goddess of babies. For SiriusMarauder's fan Babies' challenge.


Hey. Thirth challenge and I'm still excited! Well, this is for SiriusMarauder's fan Babies' challenge. I chose two numbers and she gave fours babies, Bathilda Bagshot, Horace Slughorn, Colin Creevey and Pomona Sprout. I kind of left Colin out, because he's a muggle born, so sorry. I'd tell you to try her challenge because I think it is extremely original! My main character is a Black, but just because she seems to be aged enough to take care of this babies. =/

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter – sadly (I could do with a little extra cash right now).

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Children were always her shield from loneliness.

Ella was already seventy and she still knew her thing. She'd always be the goddess of babies. Not only did she love them – she got them. And they loved her back of course. It was a gift. Not everyone could have it, she knew. Child caring had been her idea of a good job. Something she enjoyed, with no great skill for magic needed, easy and very in vogue. Witches were getting busier by the day, and they'd still have to wait twenty five years for the feminist muggle revolution.

So she started with a few kids. Mainly family. They trusted her enough, because they knew about her gift with kids. They'd better, after the seven kids she had successfully raised into good, loving and hardworking wizards. And that was the thing, not only was she good with children, not only did she loved children. Children actually loved her back.

Not everyone was so lucky. There's people who loves babies, but are just unable to get along with them. Like Bathilda, her granddaughter. An amazing witch now a days, but babies could just not stand her. Ella suspects that's why she never had any. Or maybe she was too grumpy for marriage (and even worst, for children). Things like that, the passion for writing, the investigation skills, the lack of social abilities. Everything, everything you could tell since they were little.

Back to the Bathilda example. She had a knack for stalking the other kids. Not exactly stalking, but she _followed_ them. "Not again, Bathilda…" she would say, and little fickly Bathilda would just pout and explain that they wouldn't answer her questions, so she had to look for the answers all by herself. And of course the other kids wouldn't answer, she creeped them out with all that energy. And of course, everything Bathilda found out with her stalking needed to be "documented" with a pretty green crayon.

She always did love green, Ella remembers. And she was always awful to little kids. It wasn't her fault really. She just was too curious, too eager for answers. She lived too fast and when she did finally learned to slow her pace, she was too old for kids. Poor old Bathilda, she had been such a good girl, even if a little weird and now she was left all alone.

And then, there are those who are just adored by the babies, but really don't like them. Now that she recalls, and if she has to be completely honest, she always did know that little Horace was going to end in Slytherin. He was too charming to be real. With every new stunt he pulled off he managed to get everything but what he wanted. Poor kid, his beloved mom just didn't have the time for him. Ella loved him all the same, for her and for his busy mom. She really enjoyed having him at her house. The boy could charm his way into anything, and never get any of the trouble.

She could just picture him, with his little hands and his big gooseberry eyes, asking her if she could just have apple juice instead of orange juice. Never liked the bittersweet taste of it.

He liked the comfortable lazy side of life, and really, which kid didn't? He was like the others and different at the same tome. The playground wasn't for him. He liked to sleep all the time, and even more than that, he liked potions. More like mixing, really. He was good at mixing. Three spoons of sugar, one big glass cup, two of chocolate, cinnamon and three cups of milk. She never tasted a better tasting chocolate than his.

In a way, Horace loved kids, but just enough to get something from them. And it wasn't a bad thing, really. Again, he'd end lonely as just he could end, but some people just are not meant not to be alone.

And speaking of lonely children, there was Pomona. Such a sweet child. Always dirty. Specially her robes. Ella never understood it, where all that earth came from, until she realized her old and precious Flitter bloom had lost his dirt and she had to go to Knockturn alley for new soil. Pomona insisted in going with her.

She had never seen such a daring little baby girl. Pomona walked in the creepy alley as she owned it, ignoring completely Ella's warnings and begs. Once in the little store where she used to buy the fertilizer and the soil she confidently started a conversation, and when they finally returned home, little Pomona had been gifted with her very own pot, the best soil in sell and little seeds so she could plant whatever she wanted. She had already set apart the lovage, as it was obvious she was leant on it being the plant she wanted to have.

Pomona was engrossed with plants, she never bothered to even make friends.

They would end lonely, unmarried and childless, but, Ella wondered if being lonely was as terrible as she had always feared.

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I'm not terribly happy with it, but thanks for reading. Please point out my mistakes for me, because it really helps me with my english.

Lilamedusa.


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